Impact
by irite
Summary: Iron Man and the team have a profound impact on Tony Stark. Who is not the most normal guy around. Companion piece: "Consequences."
1. Impact

**A huge thank you to my beta, dysprositos, for reassuring me that this is not terrible. And also for making the cover pic. Thanks!**

* * *

Tony Stark knows he's fucking _awesome_. The physical manifestation of his awesomeness is the Iron Man suit.

It can do almost anything, and the things it can't do, well, Tony's working on that. Give him a year or five and all the problems will be gone.

Iron Man hides Tony. Gives him a mask to shelter behind. He would say Iron Man protects his identity, but he blew that out of the water two years ago when he announced his identity to the whole fucking world.

But what Iron Man does is covers up Tony's inherent _need_ to be good, just every once in a while. He's not totally self-destructive. Everybody's got a little hero complex. It just takes a big man to admit it. Like Steve Rogers. But that's another story.

Tony could go on for _days_ about Captain America. But this is about him (he's narcissistic like that) so he won't.

Iron Man shields Tony from the public. He can't count the number of times he's retreated home to lick his wounds in private, exhausted after maintaining the facade of imperviousness in public. Because Iron Man can take _anything_, damn it, and get right back up.

But Tony can't. He's had more scratches and bruises than he can count (pretty sure the number's up past infinity by now). He's broken twelve ribs, three of those twice, and one three times. He's fractured his skull. Broken fingers, his left arm, his right tibia and foot. Severe contusions on his face. His windpipe's been almost crushed four times. Burned his back once. Almost drowned (as if he didn't have enough reasons to _hate_ water by now). The arc reactor's been compromised twice in the field, and Tony's learned to keep a spare on him at all times. His longest coma was two weeks, three days, eight hours, forty-seven minutes, thirteen seconds, and two milliseconds. JARVIS counted.

In short, Iron Man hides Tony. But he can't protect him. Not from everything.

But being Tony Stark has its privileges, though. The time some _genius_ made a motherfucking huge magnet to draw him in, he was able to buy off all the media, and no other villain had gotten wind of that brilliant idea.

He spent a week in the lab without surfacing after that, making the suit non-magnetic. Pepper almost went crazy until JARVIS set up a video feed, so that she could check on him.

One of the few good things about being Iron Man is that Tony doesn't drink as much.

A little girl died the time he attempted to respond to a distress call while drunk.

Throwing money at her family did little to make him feel better. He still has nightmares about that little body, broken and crumpled and inhuman. Nobody knows this, but he visits her grave in secret once a month, leaving a simple but colorful daisy arrangement.

Iron Man is a symbol, a _legend_, but Tony's just a man. On his worst days, he locks himself in the sensory deprivation chamber until he can't think anymore. He's battled depression all his life, un-medicated, and how SHIELD doesn't know about that is a mystery to him.

He's a narcissist, sure, but that's because he's the only person who has _always_ been there for himself. Everybody else, even Pepper, has let him down. He doesn't blame them, her, he really doesn't. But subconsciously, there's an awareness.

He shuts himself off to protect himself. Nobody's ever cared before, so when he has these _people_ living in his Tower, making him food and hanging out with him and asking him, "Tony, are you okay?" it's such a fucking strange feeling. The funny part is, he _knows_ they mean every word of it.

They're all fucked up sons-of-bitches. Well, daughter-of-a-bitch, in Natasha's case.

They _get_ each other's pain. They make an effort to be jovial, most days, but there are just some times where one or more needs to grieve, be down. The team supports that member, offering them consolation, but giving them the space they need.

One of the only days they all _crash_ together is the anniversary of Phil Coulson's death. The whole team is inactive that day. Fury knows better than to send them anywhere that day. That was one of the few times Tony has seen Steve lose his temper. The really fucking sad part is that Fury just _stood there_ and took it.

Tony thinks Steve angry is scarier than Bruce angry. That's really saying something, considering Bruce's anger issues.

The whole team celebrated the first time Bruce and Tony had an argument where Bruce yelled and carried on without going green. They knew what an accomplishment that was.

But really, the Hulk's not that bad. Kind of nice, actually. He works well with Tony and takes direction from Steve. He's intelligent too, just laconic. When he talks, it _matters_.

All said and done, Tony's in a good place now. He's got an aegis and a team. But he's still human, and humans make mistakes.

* * *

**Because I'm insecure and all, I'd appreciate knowing what you think. And so would Tony.**


	2. Regret

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers/followers/favoriters. You made my day. Week. Month.**

**And dysprositos, my beta. You're wonderful!**

**WARNING: touchy issues regarding conception and adoption.**

* * *

Tony Stark can't have kids. Ever.

As a highly immature and newly liberated twenty-one-year-old punk, he had made the executive decision to undergo a vasectomy. He knew condoms were important, hell, a necessity, but he didn't want the _worry_ of 'what if it breaks?'

And worrying about the possibility of scheming partners trying to make a baby just so they'd have a claim on his money sickened him.

The thought still does.

So Tony Stark, twenty-one and newly orphaned, the world his oyster, decided to take away his own ability to have children.

It was a big decision, he knew. He thought about it for all of four days. Sober. Completely.

He told his secretary of the week (they never lasted long) to schedule the appointment. The night before it was spent alone, in deference for what he was about to do. And sober. Completely fucking sober.

Brash and just plain _stupid_, he didn't even bother to freeze some sperm. The doctor asked him, but Tony, Mr. Know-It-All, said "no."

Because the Tony of yore thought kids were fucking nuisances. Honestly, he still does, a little, but he understands the appeal now.

And, God, does he want one. Or two. But that's a moot point, now.

The fact that he can't have kids is why he keeps Pepper at a distance. She would be _such_ a good mother, he intrinsically knows, his dormant caveman instincts pointing him at her. Woman good and all that shit. When she starts to get too attached to him, he plants the idea with Happy to ask her out, offering to foot the bill, even.

"Hey, Happy. You wanna know something, man?" _Play it cool, Stark._

"Sure, Tony. What is it?"

"I think Pepper likes you. You should totally ask her out. Hey, I could even pay!"

"Thanks, Boss. But I don't need your help." He doesn't specify for what.

Happy had seemed cool to the idea, but Tony saw them leaving the office together on Friday night, laughing.

He spent that evening in his room, crying. He couldn't drink, he was one of the two Avengers-on-call-at-all-times-or-I-will-end-you per Fury's orders. And it was fucking misery.

All this because of one stupid-ass decision when he was little more than an idiot teenager. God, if he could go back, he would punch his younger self in the goddamn face.

But time travel isn't possible, even for him. He's tried.

So Tony's stuck living with that choice. He's finally mature (mostly) after a harsh wake up call, courtesy of the Ten Rings.

When Pepper and Happy begin to show up in the same places, 'coincidentally' bumping into each other, Tony asks Steve to box with him.

The physical exertion helps some, but not enough. It's another trip to the sensory deprivation chamber for him, then.

Increasingly, adoption has been on his mind. He couldn't do that to Pepper; she's the kind of person who would want her own biological kids, not adopted ones. He's caught her looking wistfully at pregnant women when they are out. Having adopted children would never cross her mind as an issue, but Tony would know. Hate himself for taking that privilege away from her. And that would poison their relationship, his with Pepper and his with the child.

Maybe someday, with the right partner, adoption would be worthwhile. But not now. Not with _her_.

He goes on 'sick leave' for a week after he comes to this realization. He fakes the flu, keeping to his bed. He can't get drunk for fear of the consequences. Apocalypses aren't planned, after all. Who knows when Iron Man will be needed? (God, it _sucks_ to be responsible.) So he stays in bed and dutifully eats the chicken soup Steve brings him. When he needs to shut his brain off, he makes for the sensory deprivation chamber.

It's just a temporary fix, though, like everything else. The battle against depression is a long, internal struggle.

On the seventh day of his moping, he is visited by the whole team. Natasha looks at him softly (of course she knows, how could she not?) but the other four just seem to think that he's had a nasty stomach bug.

He allows them to drag him up and out to the dining room for dinner, foods that won't nauseate him.

And after dinner, he tucks his feet up under him on the couch and leans into Thor, who lifts an arm so that Tony can get more comfortable.

When his feet start to fall asleep, he swings them over into Bruce's lap. Bruce gives him a bit of a dirty look, but jokingly, and rubs them until the tingling goes away.

Tony indicates that Bruce can quit by pulling them away and tucking them under Steve's thigh. Steve just sighs, accustomed to the others using him as a heat source.

Tony made a bad fucking decision and he's going to have to live with the consequences, but he's got the best goddamn support network in the whole wide world.

* * *

**What do y'all think?**


	3. Carpe Diem

**My beta dysprositos, in addition to being _awesome_ and helping me out tremendously with all the background/research, has written some Tony and Steve angst called "Collateral Damage." Please read it and review!**

**Finally, I have written a companion piece to Impact featuring Steve. It's called "Consequences" and it overlaps with this installment of Impact.**

* * *

Tony first realized that he _loved_ his team on a Friday. Clint was manic, for the second time that month, running around the Tower, eating anything even vaguely sugary. He snatched Tony's Frosted Flakes right out of Tony's hands, and instead of being annoyed, all Tony could think was _that's actually kind of cute._

Tony gasped when that thought registered, and slunk back to his room to ruminate over this new development. He could feel the panic attack coming on, and it wasn't fair to the other four that they should have to deal with two distraught people at the same time. They would have their hands full with Clint.

Clint was on medication. He was good about taking it when he had a mission, but when he was not on duty, he felt that he _needed_ the release a manic episode allowed him, especially post-Loki. Nobody could convince him any differently, nor could they make him take his medicine regularly. He would be high, energetic for about two days, and the other Avengers would have their hands full managing him, and then he would _crash_. Thor or Steve would have to carry him to bed, so abrupt was the shift.

Anyway, this time appeared to be one of the worst the team had seen, and Tony couldn't subject the team to that _and_ his issues. _And__ isn't that alarming? I'm one of the most selfish people around_...

So, Tony threw up in the toilet and proceeded to hyperventilate in the corner of the bathtub (he had _no_ idea how he got in there), vomit drooled down his face. It was not a pretty sight.

Once he managed to regulate his breathing, he climbed out of the tub and washed off his face, using mouthwash three times to eliminate the taste of regurgitated coffee. Then, he settled into his bed to think, tugging the covers over himself and putting a pillow in his lap.

Tony thought that he _loved_ his team. But he was Tony Fucking Stark, and he didn't get too attached to anyone. Pepper was the closest that he'd ever let anybody in, and that had turned out _so_ well. She was engaged to Happy now.

But the team was different. Tony still didn't quite know what to make of this, that these five people had moved into his Tower, taken over his space, interfered in his life, changed him. And he liked it. No, _loved_ it.

He _loved _the way Bruce woke up in the morning and couldn't speak until he'd drunk two cups of tea. The way Bruce set an alarm and left the lab at ten o'clock on the dot every evening, claiming sleep was the best remedy he'd found.

He _loved_ the way Steve got up religiously at five in the morning and followed the same exact workout routine, without ever deviating. This was a manifestation of his OCPD, and the whole team had learned the hard way to just let Steve do his own thing. Nobody liked to see Captain America upset. However, Steve was almost unflappably optimistic, except for the seventeen anniversaries scattered throughout the year that he observed. On those days, the team was fortunate to see Steve's face at all.

He _loved_ the way Thor still struggled with Earth's customs, despite all the time (and money) spent on helping him, and when that failed, etiquette school. He had been educated since birth in Asgardian court manners, and those were deeply ingrained in him. The way Thor took a nap after lunch every day for an hour exactly, popping up immediately and cleaning his hammer.

He _loved_ the way Clint had claimed the air vents as his own. One never knew whether he was present or not. Distance was important to him. The first night he'd joined the team for movie night, actually sitting on the couch with them, they had all celebrated with double chocolate ice cream. His manic episodes no longer bothered Tony, goodness knows Tony had no room to criticize.

He _loved_ the way Natasha carried on whole conversations with herself out loud without realizing she was doing it. Her childhood was repressed, and she had been her only companion, the only person she could totally rely on. _Fuck_, could Tony sympathize with that. The way she picked Disney movies to watch when it was her turn, and cried at all the sad parts, usually into Thor's hair or Bruce's shirt.

All said and done, Tony _loved_ his team. And that was deeply disturbing, kicking every single one of Tony's anxiety issues to the forefront of his overactive brain. He started hyperventilating again, just a little, but forced himself to stay calm using some techniques Bruce had taught him.

Thinking back over his recent behavior, Tony realized that he had become softer, less sharp. His comments were less biting, delivered with less snark. He was more selfless, spending time on Bruce's projects instead of his own, working out with Steve, teaching Thor, being steady for Clint, and allowing Natasha the freedom to act as she pleased.

Tony did _love_ his team, and he couldn't believe that he hadn't seen it before. How could he have been so _blind_? The best thing that had ever happened to him was staring him in the face, and it could slip away at any time.

Tony didn't need to hole himself up in his room worrying about _loving _his team, he needed to go be with them, to enjoy every moment. Carpe diem and all that shit.

He hadn't even realized that he'd been holding his bottle of anxiety medicine until he looked down. He was proud that he had been able to talk himself down, instead of relying on the prescription.

Usually, that took at least one other person's effort, and often times, two.

He _loved_ his team, and, he strongly suspected, they returned that affection. They were all very open with each other, so Tony decided to just bite the bullet and ask them.

Worst case scenario, they said no, and Tony and Clint would run around together, hyper, until they absolutely collapsed.

He gathered up his courage and followed the sounds of their noise. Clint was literally bouncing off the den walls, and the rest of the team watched him, Thor and Steve hovering a little, just in case.

"Oh, hey, Tony. We were just wondering where you were." Bruce is the first to notice Tony's silent entrance.

"Just thinking. Sorry. Um, Bruce, doyouloveme?"

"A little slower, please?" Bruce looks perplexed, pushing off the wall and walking over to Tony.

"Of course we do, silly!" Natasha would be the one to _hear_ him.

"Do what?" Bruce questions, looking between the two.

"Love him, Bruce."

"I do, Tony," Steve pipes up from his position directly under Clint as he clings to the crack between ceiling and wall.

"Me, also," Thor booms from Steve's side.

And then Tony's holding his breath, watching Bruce, who somehow, has the opinion that matters most, seeing as the two are the most similar.

Bruce smiles at Tony, and the billionaire nearly collapses in relief. Bruce catches him, and, well, if Tony sheds a tear or two into Bruce's shirt, they all pretend not to notice.

Somehow, all their levels of fucked-up _work_. And Tony _loves _his team, and they _love _him, and that's all that matters.

* * *

**THANK YOU to all of my readers/reviewers/favoriters/followers. Whenever I see that alert, especially for a review, my day instantly brightens.**

**So tell me, what did you think about this one?**


End file.
